Shut the door
by YulianaHenderson
Summary: "It doesn't mean anything to you! What we had, apparently it was just a stepping stone to Red John! You don't love me, and you never loved me. You'll never love me... not like I love you. So go away, go sulk in your attic again, Patrick Jane. You're a selfish son of a bitch, and you can go to hell." Jisbon, one-shot, Rated T for language.


**A/N: Short one-shot! And the emotions are pretty... raw, rough, tough, more words to describe it? It's not just plain fluff, only around the ending. Before that... nope, not so pretty.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

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**_'Shut the door'_**

Jane inhaled her scent. It was typically her, it filled his senses, the slight cinnamon scent that she had all on her own, she didn't need perfume for that. The vanilla scent of her shampoo, buried deep inside her hair.

It made it all the harder for him to leave now. He pushed away, but she wouldn't let him, wrapped her arms around him even tighter.

"Lisbon... I need to go now." Him saying her last name made her shudder, but it was for the best. He had to be cold now, otherwise he would never leave.

"You don't _have_ to go," she whispered.

"Lisbon, we both know I do have to go."

She shook her head, and buried her head in the crook of his neck.

"Don't leave..."

He pushed away from her, now using more force.

He _had_ to go. _Had_ to.

It didn't work. And it would never work. He had been stupid to think that it would work. Him and Lisbon... they were indeed just friends.

Or were they?

Because it broke his heart to see she was softly crying, had been since he had tried to push her away from him. He wanted nothing else than to slip back into her embrace and hold her some more.

No. This was it. He had to go.

He had compromised his position already. Red John would know by now that his feelings for Lorelei were never real – if they were real, he wouldn't have made the step to sleep with Lisbon. Dammit. Dammit all to hell.

He pushed away from her more, and almost fell off the bed in his haste to put more distance between them.

She took in a deep breath, to try and calm herself down but he saw she failed.

He quickly got dressed, then hurried to the door. Her voice stopped him.

"Did you ever love me?"

He didn't turn around. Looked at the door. It was so easy. Just turn the knob and he would be out of here. He wouldn't have to be here, with her, trying to avoid what was so obvious.

He shook his head, looking at the floor.

He heard her soft breath, and he imagined she was nodding. He heard the sounds of the sheets moving, and for a moment, he thought she was going to get up and stop him from leaving, but then he heard her sobs, and a pang of guilt shot through him. Like a bullet, piercing his organs.

He swallowed the pain away. He had to go.

He turned the knob and opened the door. Stepped outside, and almost closed the door behind him. It felt like ripping his heart out and having it run over by a freaking van.

There had to be another way. There had to be a way with which he could catch Red John _and_ love Lisbon.

He looked up at the sky.

He couldn't do this. Not without telling her the truth. He turned back and almost barged through the front door of her motel room and shut it behind him.

"You know how cruel you actually are, Lisbon?" he almost exclaimed. She had her face buried in her pillow and didn't bother lifting it. "God dammit! I should be focusing on catching Red John, that has been the reason for my existence all these years but instead I'm killing myself knowing I can't be with you if he's still around! You're distracting me from my mission and I should hate you for it!"

"Then hate me!" she exclaimed now, suddenly sitting up in bed. "Hate me, I don't care anymore! Hate me, hit me, shut me out, it doesn't matter anyway! I let you see the real me, I let you hold me and have sex with me and then you betrayed my trust!"

"How?!" he exclaimed back, incredulously. She jumped off the bed and with a few firm strides, she was standing in front of him. Despite the difference in their length and the fact that she was almost completely naked, he _was_ intimidated. That's what Teresa Lisbon could do, after all.

No. Focus. He was angry at her.

"It doesn't mean anything to you! What we had, apparently it was just a stepping stone to Red John! You don't love me, and you never loved me! You'll never love me... not like I love you. So go away, go sulk in your attic again, Patrick Jane. You're a selfish son of a bitch, and you can go to hell."

He roughly pushed her backwards and her eyes widened. Then she reached out and punched his face, hard. For emphasis, she kicked one of his legs as well.

He hissed in pain and she pushed him into the direction of the door. She opened the door and pushed him further away, until he almost tripped over the threshold.

"And stay gone," she said as she slammed the door shut. His former pain was forgotten, only to be replaced by the new pain in his heart. He hit the door, several times, but she didn't respond. The door stayed closed.

He reached up to his nose – thank God, there was no blood. He slumped against the door and slid to the floor, putting his head in his hands.

Well, this was what you wanted, Patrick Jane. Now she hates you.

He started crying. It wasn't what he wanted, and it was only now he realized it. Everyone could hate him, he really didn't care, the world could shun him, could want him dead for all the things he had done, but not her. Not the one person who mattered most. Not the one person he would die for, if that meant she would be alive.

Not the only person who made him feel something after all these years of being alone and afraid.

"Teresa..." he whimpered, to no one in particular – the one he meant didn't hear this anyway.

He screwed up everything. He couldn't maintain a stable form of happiness, because he would always make the wrong move and destroy everything.

He gave one hard knock on the door, not knowing why. The door opened though, and he fell backwards onto the floor.

Lisbon was standing there, her arms crossed. He closed his eyes. He couldn't look at her. He was ashamed of himself.

He already moved to sit up straight and was about to leave once again, when she made him turn his face towards her. She ran her hands over his skin, feather-light touches, to estimate how hurt he was.

Fact was that he didn't feel any pain anymore. He looked into her emerald eyes and everything was better again. In his heart, that is. Because he knew that between them, nothing was better.

She helped him stand up and walked him to the bed. She lay down first, then opened her arms as an invitation.

"No... I... I shoved at you, Teresa," he said, his voice weak, just like he was.

"I punched you," she said softly, "_and_ kicked you. I guess we're equal."

He shook his head. She sat up and grabbed his hands, then pulled him onto the bed.

He slipped into her embrace and put his head on her chest, his nose between her two luscious breasts. He inhaled her scent once more.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," he whispered against her skin. She ran her hand through his curls.

"Me too."

He lifted his head off her chest and looked into her eyes. Now he saw the tears in them. He scooted upwards on the bed and put his forehead against.

"I do love you, Teresa. I've always loved you."

She swallowed. He wiped her tears away, then linked their lips briefly.

"Whatever I tell you, I love you. Don't forget that. Please. You're right – I'm selfish. But you're the only thing I can't miss in my life. I can't. Without you..."

She shook her head, and kissed his forehead.

"Don't talk now. Let's just sleep. We can talk tomorrow."

He pulled her to him, almost crushing her. She just sighed in contentment and moved even closer.

"I love you too," she whispered. She brushed her lips against his again, soft, brief touches, then she slowly fell asleep in his arms, their lips still linked when she arrived in dreamland.

He slightly pushed her away, and cried, but not for sadness this time.

He had her now. He would think of ways to get closer to Red John another day.

She was his last shot at happiness. He couldn't deny it any longer.

He wouldn't screw up again. He simply couldn't. There was too much at stake here. _Her_ life, _her_ heart, _her_ future. That was what he was living for now. To provide her with as much happiness as his miserable body could. She had chosen the wrong man to fall in love with, but he would love her, and he would try to give her what she deserved.

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, then felt a sharp sting in his leg, followed by one in his nose. He smiled gently. He supposed that now the pain in his heart was gone, he felt the rest of his body again, and he was reminded of her punch and kick instantly.

He always knew her violence served a purpose somehow.

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**A/N: You liked it? Let me know please!**


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